Blackthorne Episode 123

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 Blackthorne

Cinemagenic 123

Behind Bars

“If you want to know who your friends are, get

yourself a jail sentence.”--Charles Bukowski.

1(sound cue) harmonica.

2(medium wide shot) The lath-thin deputy nodded,

and the great steel door slammed.

3(sound cue) the clash of steel echoed across 

the room.

4(medium close-up) Hop leaned the Sharps up

against the adobe wall behind the desk, resting

against the gun rack

5(two-shot) Buck: Is it actually necessary for me to

be behind bars?

Hop: Yup.

Buck: You got a plan?

Hop: I’m fixing to bake one right now. I’m not happy

that you blew up my original idea. If we could  have

met with Bronson, with the whole town watching, we

might have forced him to be somewhat civil.

Buck: That’s down the crapper.

Hop: No shit. I should have kept you on a leash.

Buck: Bronson would have cut it.

Hop: You didn’t have to go into the CHINA DOLL

with that Indian and pull on the whole crowd.

Buck: Do you understand that I didn’t have a choice?

I was after Ramos. He walked into the cantina and shot

Mateo in cold blood.

Hop: Even more of a reason to have waited for me.

Buck: In the blood of the moment, that’s not the way

I saw it.

Hop: shaking his head, That’s why you find yourself

incarcerated. You given me a lot to sort out.

Buck: after a pause: Tell me something, Joe--why

were you with Bronson?

Hop: No mystery there. We both arrived at the same

time, and stood there until the gunfire died down.

Buck: I’d be obliged if you tell me where you stand.

Are you Bronson’s shill?

Hop: Christ, does it look like it? I’m standing between

you two, upholding the rule of law. He smiled, his teeth

white but irregular. He jerked his thumb toward the

small cell in the corner. Buck remained seated, and 

he began to move slightly toward the Sheriff, 

gathering himself.

Hop: Try it and you’ll gather lead

Buck: I’m still pretty angry. I’d feel better if you were

pointing iron at me. He still was not moving.

Hop: anger now in his voice. Pardner, I don’t care 

about your feelings. This time you’re going to do what 

I’m telling you, no margin for error. Get your butt into

that cell.

Buck: tense as a coiled spring: I could overpower you.

Hop, still smiling: You wouldn’t live through the 

experience.

6(sound cue) banjo and piano.

7(cut to medium wide shot)

Buck stood up, then smiled: I was just fucking with you.

He walked toward the iron bars, his face still red, and

then stood in front of the small cell.

Hop, cheerfully: It’s open--make yourself to home

Buck pushed the barred door open with the toe of his

boot, and stepped into the cell. A plank bed hung from

chains on the mud wall. The bedding was clean. The

floor smelled of soap. He sat on the bunk, with his broad

back against the wall, staring at the Sheriff. The cell door

was left wide open. Hop rolled himself a smoke.

8(close-up) Buck: Seems to me, you’re leaving a lot

unsaid

9(wide two-shot) Hop: It’ll work out.

Buck: I don’t think Bronson will wait a week for

the judge. He’ll crack this jail like an axe on a coffee

can He’s still got a dozen guns.

Hop: You let me worry about that. I am not giving

you up.

Buck: When the nut-cutting commences, let me have

a gun. I promise not to try and escape.

Hop: I won’t be doing that.

Buck: Why in hell not?

Hop: It wouldn’t be prudent, and besides being illegal,

it would make me look weak.

Buck: Weak is better than dead.

10(sound cue) blues guitar slide.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN